


Prēmikā, Mērī Prēmikā

by the_editor (romangold)



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Child Death, Deathfic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Child Abuse, Original Character Death(s), Past Child Abuse, don't actually cry, please cry so I know I'm a good author, sorry that was mean, unless you want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romangold/pseuds/the_editor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner is not the Hulk. At least, that's what he likes to think. It wasn't him who ravaged Harlem, who crushed cars still with families inside of them, who made people cry. But still, he travels and stays aloof, and helps people in an attempt to make peace with all of the people he's- well, the Other Guy- killed. He tries so hard, but, in the end, he could never really control his emotions. That includes love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prēmikā, Mērī Prēmikā

Beloved, my Beloved, when I think  
That thou wast in the world a year ago,  
What time I sate alone here in the snow  
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink  
No moment at thy voice ... but, link by link,  
Went counting all my chains, as if that so  
They never could fall off at any blow  
Struck by thy possible hand ... why, thus I drink  
Of life's great cup of wonder! Wonderful,  
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night

\- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

\---------------

 

When Bruce first met Gayathri, she had a smile on her face.

Then again, as Bruce looked back, the girl had always had a smile in her face. Bruce had patched her father up after the man had broken his leg in an accident. His wife had cried, because they had no money for a doctor, no money for anything else. Bruce practically ran to his little shack to snatch up his supplies, creating infant dust clouds at his scrambling feet. Mr. Krishna had invited the doctor over as a gesture of thanks, which Bruce had denied at first, until being promised that it would only be once and that they needed to get rid of some food that they didn't need. Bruce saw through the lie, but didn't call him out because of how terribly poor they were. Mr. Krishna really wanted him over. It nearly broke Bruce's heart, and he wasn't even sure why. 

That night, Bruce found himself at a stranger's house, more or less, only learning the family's name once he arrived. Mr. Krishna called his children in. The first was a girl, thin and serious, extending her hand to Bruce as if they were business partners, which he took. The youngest boy was very sweet, speaking only when necessary, an adorable child. He, too, took Bruce's hand, but he smiled with several missing teeth, and the doctor smiled back.

"And this is-" Mr. Krishna began, but cut himself off when someone threw themselves onto Bruce, wrapping their small arms around his neck.

"Dr. Banner, you saved my father!" the child squealed. "Thank you so much!" The doctor was taken aback. He wasn't used to being so close to other people. "Oh, um...you're welcome." Mr. Krishna picked up his daughter and set her on the floor, away from the surprised man. "Gayathri," he warned,"you do not jump on our guests." Gayathri, her name was, turned to Bruce without being told. "I am sorry, Dr. Banner."

Bruce found himself missing the middle child's joy. "No, don't worry, no harm done." He walked over and knelt down next to her. "You're very open. Sometimes, that's a very good thing. Thank you for the hug." Gayathri beamed, her grin returned. She gasped suddenly. "It's like a secret handshake!" The American laughed. "Yes, it is." Gayathri hugged him again, and this time, Bruce hugged back, hesitant, as if he had forgotten how to hug. Maybe he had, but now, he was remembering.

It all went from there. Bruce returned to the Krishna's for dinner many more times, greeting the other two children with their handshakes and Gayathri with their 'secret' one. The doctor found himself enjoying the seven-year-old's company more and more, until she was like his own little caboose, following him around all over the third-world city that they resided in. Gayathri would even help out with Bruce's patients, taking the medicine from the cabinets and having Bruce check that it was the right prescription. It always was.

He noticed early on that Gayathri was different. She didn't want to kick a ball around in the streets or braid her own hair. She wanted to stay with Bruce all day, helping him with patients, watching him wrap up injuries with gauze or stitching them up or telling people their prescription. She watched it all with wide owl-eyes. That was another thing. The girl was tough. When a woman had come in screaming because her son had a huge gash across his face, she didn't freak out or scream or gasp or anything. She just waited and watched to see if Bruce needed anything.

About three weeks after he had met Gayathri, he arrived at his office with her and told her to sit on the examination table, and to close her eyes. She covered them with her tiny hands, bouncing from how excited she was. "How does this smell?" Bruce asked, holding a bottle of shampoo under her nose. She inhaled. "It smells great! What is it?" Bruce grinned. It felt strange on his face, gracing his cheeks. "Open." She obeyed, and squeaked when she saw the bottle. "Mommy has always wanted shampoo!" Bruce felt sad that a seven-year-old girl was so excited from a bottle of peach shampoo, but this was one of the poorest cities in the country. Dirt streets, shabby apartments, everything filthy all of the time. 

But the people. The people were so gracious, so kind, it made Bruce's heart thud loud in his chest. Never before had any city been so helpful to itself, so many people living together being so loving. Bruce found himself wishing every morning, afternoon and night that he had grown up here, in this pure place, and not in his unknown town of secretive neighbors who pretended not to hear the screams of a woman and her child, or the shattering of bottles on the walls, bare feet bleeding and a curly young head just inches away from a concussion. Here, they had no stairs to throw their children down, they had no hate to spew venomous insults from, they had no sidewalks to bash the heads of their dead wives on over and over and over again as their young ones watched. Only love could Bruce find here.

"Why don't you use it, and tomorrow you show me," the doctor said. Gayathri nodded and put the shampoo on the table. She jumped up and hugged Bruce. He hugged her back, and didn't hesitate this time. She was teaching him, he realized, so much more than anyone ever had.

One Sunday morning, there was a knock on Bruce's door. He glanced at his watch. 9:30 am. Maybe they had found him...Bruce buttoned his shirt and opened the door. "Hel-" He cried out as something collided with his stomach.

"Hello, Dr. Banner!" Gayathri exclaimed. Bruce ruffled her black hair, smiling fondly. He looked up to see her father and mother. "Yes? Is someone sick or hurt?" Mr. Krishna laughed. "No, Dr. Banner, no! But today I have no work, and we decided to take a trip to the lake. Gayathri insisted that you come." He tugged his daughter's hand that was clinging Bruce's pants. "Come, little one, Dr. Banner cannot hug you all of the time!"

"Oh," Bruce was touched that the girl wanted him to come so badly. "If you'll have me, I'll join you, if it's no trouble."

"It is no trouble at all, Dr. Banner," Mrs. Krishna insisted. "Besides, I have always wanted to meet the famous Dr. Bruce Banner that my daughter will not stop talking about!" Bruce blushed and smiled. "Then, sure." Gayathri gasped and jumped up and down. "Yay, Dr. Banner is joining us!" Bruce could only chuckle.

They walked to the lake, the weather great: warm and sunny. Bruce sat with Gayathri's parents in the shade, watching the three children play in the water. "So, Dr. Banner," Gayathri's mother said. "You are from America?" Bruce smiled. "Yes."

"Is it nice there?" Bruce thought. "Yes, it can be, in some places." Not where he was from. He would never go back there, not ever, not if he was payed or bribed or seduced. Not there. It was never nice there. "So why did you leave America, Dr. Banner?" Mrs. Krishna asked. "Oh," Bruce was unprepared for that. "Um, well, I used to live in New York, but it was..." Images flashed in his head of screaming people, cars flying through the air, buildings crumbling. "...stressful."

"So you like it in our city, Dr. Banner?" Mr. Krishna inquired. Bruce smiled as he watched Gayathri splash her brother. "Yes, I do, it's very beautiful." It was then that the middle child saw the doctor watching her, because she waved, and he waved back. She ran up to him. "Dr. Banner, Dr. Banner! Come in the water with me!"

"Gayathri," her mother fretted,"you are soaking wet, don't get Dr. Banner wet, too!" The seven-year-old backed up a little, but kept asking. "Please, Dr. Banner! Come in the water and play!" She stared at him. Bruce broke under her large, sparkling gaze. "Sure, Gayathri." Gayathri gasped in delight and grabbed his hand, pulling him up. "Gayathri," Mr. Krishna warned,"Don't get him too wet!" Bruce smiled at him. "I'll be fine," he remarked as he rolled up his pants and pulled off his shoes and socks. Gayathri pulled him into the water, a grin on her face. "Come on, Dr. Banner!"

"Don't worry, the world isn't ending!" the doctor joked. The water was cold, but Gayathri was tugging on his hand, so he kept going. He was wet up to his shins, and the water was cold, but Bruce did it because Gayathri wanted him to, just so she would keep smiling her bright sunshine grin. Bruce gasped when Gayathri splashed him with water, but this made them all- even the oldest, serious girl- laugh, so he splashed back, lightly. Gayathri shrieked and ran as best as she could in the water. Bruce gave chase, splashing her as they stumbled around the lake shore.

Gayathri laughed as she waded quickly through the water, looking back at Bruce from time to time to see how close he was to her. She squealed and laughed when the doctor caught up and grabbed her around the middle, picking her up and bouncing her in his arms. "Higher, higher!" she insisted, and Bruce just had to, because it was Gayathri, though not too much higher because he was afraid of dropping her. No memories of being "dropped" down the staircase punctured his mind, and they continued in their fun.

The three children and Bruce were thoroughly soaked by the time they had to leave. Bruce held Gayathri's hand as they walked back. When they reached the Krishna's house, Gayathri hugged Bruce- or, 'handshaked' him. She always called it that. The American thought it was adorable. Mrs. Krishna picked up her younger daughter and went inside to put her to bed.

"The children had a good time today," Mr. Krishna remarked to Bruce after everyone else was inside. Bruce nodded. "Yes, I think they did."

"Do you have children of your own, Dr. Banner?" the Indian man said. "Oh, uh," the doctor coughed,"no, I don't."

"Oh. That is too bad. I saw you with Gayathri today, and I listen to how she talks about you. She is very fond of you. You are a wonderful doctor and friend to me and my family, and I thank you for being a good role model for my Gayathri. You would make an excellent parent, I think."

"Thank you," Bruce replied, then shook his hand and said goodnight.

It was very true. Gayathri always loved having Bruce around. She almost never left the man's side. She looked up to him as a role model and Bruce barely glanced at the prescription bottles that she got for him to see if it was the right one. He trusted her, and she trusted him, as did the entire Krishna family. Bruce wasn't supposed to have people trusting him as much as they did, but he let them get close, closer than he had ever intended, far too close, and yet Bruce let them get closer. Three days after the lake, Bruce was leaving from dinner with his new friends, Gayathri by his side as usual. It was only until he was halfway to his residence, because it wasn't home and it wasn't a house, that he noticed that she shouldn't be.

"Gayathri!" Bruce exclaimed. The girl didn't even flinch. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't want you to leave," the girl responded, tears in her eyes at being caught. "I thought we could have a sleepover." Bruce held back a sigh. He knelt down next to the seven-year-old. "Gayathri, you can't be with me all the time. We have to say goodbye sometimes and meet again some other day. I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?" She nodded vigorously. Bruce smiled and led her back to her parents, then went home with a smile that didn't fade away until he was asleep.

Yes, Gayathri was something, alright.

Which was why Bruce fought with himself one day while he and Gayathri waited for patients. He had gotten so attached of her, they were practically inseparable now. She followed him around everywhere. This was bad, Bruce thought. He couldn't get so emotionally attached to people. Close, so close. Close like family, which Gayathri certainly saw him as. He had to leave eventually, he couldn't risk anyone finding him, and what if the Other Guy came loose and hurt someone? He had to leave soon, Bruce decided. It was for the best. Nobody will get hurt.

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you," Gayathri announced quite suddenly.

Bruce looked up in surprise. She continued,"I want to move to America and be a doctor like you, Bruce. I want to be just like you!" she smiled, proud of herself for finding such an excellent role model. Bruce cursed the person who wished to see that smile falter.

He had let this get out of hand. This had gone too far. He had come here to help and hide, help and hide, always silent, aloof, keep to himself, help and hide, move away without a trace or a memory. Bruce shook his head, a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes greeting the girl. "No, you don't." Gayathri didn't get to ask anything else because a man he had never seen before walked in complaining of a headache. Gayathri jumped up from her spot and had the pills in several seconds. The man looked at her carefully, a smile spreading on his face, before taking the bottle and turning to Bruce to listen to the prescription.

Bruce stepped in front of Gayathri as the man left. He hadn't liked that smile.

As Bruce locked up his office for the night, Gayathri protested,"But I do, Bruce, I really do! I want to grow up and be an American doctor like you!"

"I didn't say you couldn't," Bruce countered. "But you shouldn't have every single trait that I have." Gayathri eyed him suspiciously. She was so smart. "Like what?"

The doctor took her hand as he walked her back to her house. "Well..." he tried to think of something besides the fact that he could transform into a giant green monster. "I...use glasses. You don't want those, they're annoying. And...my hair is a mess. You should always brush yours. It's very pretty." Gayathri smiled and smoother her long hair that blended in with the night sky. Well, she was already smiling. Gayathri always smiled.

"And-" Bruce stopped and jumped when they heard the gunshots and the screams. There was happy yelling, and Bruce swore he heard someone shout in Hindi, hard and angry. A building behind them caught fire. Bruce had a feeling that it was his establishment. Several bullets flew past them. Gayathri screamed. Bruce picked her up, shielding her with his body, and ran into the building they were next to, slamming the door shut and setting the little girl down in the corner next to the door.

"You have to be quiet, OK?" the doctor whispered. "You can't make a sound. Wait for someone to get you." She nodded, her eyes wide. What made Bruce sad was that the smile had been taken from her face. The Other Guy growled inside of him, but he quenched the anger with images of the Krishna family, so happy. Carefully, Bruce walked outside and saw the men with guns approaching. "Excuse me," Bruce called to them in Hindi,"what is wrong? I'm sure you don't need guns to solve a problem in a city like this." Just last week, he had been marveling the peace of the place. These people didn't live here.

One man grabbed the doctor by the front of his shirt. Bruce recognized him as the patient with the headache who had smiled creepily at Gayathri. "You Americans!" he shouted, also in Hindi. "You think you can come and give us pity and nothing else!"

"That is not what I am doing," Bruce assured. "I came because I hated America. There is nothing for me there but murder and anger. I am not part of the government. You don't want to stoop to their level just because you're angry at the country?"

"Shut up!" the man shouted, putting the gun to Bruce's head. "You are American! That country has shown us nothing! You come here and think that one man can change our minds? No! You make us look like fools!" Bruce could feel the Other Guy pounding, stamping about in his mind, wanting so badly to hurt them. "Sir," he said, quite calm, given the situation,"I suggest you put the gun down."

The man smirked. Bruce heard a loud noise and felt a pain in his head. Everything went green, and then everything went black.

\---------------

When Bruce woke up, it was dark, and the whole world was silent. He was sitting in a pile of rubble, naked save for a pair of torn-beyond-repair pants that were so stretched out that he could have ripped them in half and fashioned a second pair in his size. He was still in the city somewhere, Bruce knew that. He almost swore at the thought of letting the Other Guy loose when he had been doing so well. The doctor wasn't entirely sure where he was in the city. The pile of rubble he was sitting in held no real memories for him, and there were no signs in sight.

Bruce strained his eyes to see in the dark. There were no people around that he could make out. No lights or yells, no whispers.

No...wait! He was wrong! There was someone several yards away, nearly lost underneath a pile of rubble. Bruce stood, his balance unsteady, but continued forward, holding up his pants with one hand. He moved unsteadily and slow, slow like an old human who'd seen far too much in their life and had no more energy to put into walking faster than they absolutely had to. He stepped, stumbled, dragged his feet more than once, went on clumsily even though his body ached and his legs refused to work properly and nothing in the world would make a sound.

"Hello?" he called. Maybe they could hear him- maybe they were still alive. "Hello, can you hear me?" Apparently not. Bruce fell to his knees and started pushing rocks off of the person. Perhaps it was the man who had shot him, or the Krishna's family's old neighbor, who Bruce knew because he suffered from back pains, or the woman who visited Bruce's residence every month to make sure her children were healthy. He wondered if it was one of the men who had set his office on fire. He would help them either way. They were human, and Bruce was human, even if professionals thought they knew otherwise and said so.

He felt the person's arm, pausing for a moment in his work of releasing the stranger of the rubble. Cold. He couldn't feel a pulse, either.

"Hello?" Bruce cried. "Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, OK? Say something, please! Can you hear me? Please, just-" Bruce stopped himself when he had pushed away all of the rocks and debris. His breath caught in his throat; he was frozen at the sight of the person lying in front of him, covered in dust and so very, very cold.

It was Gayathri.

Bruce felt his eyes well up with tears. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He tilted the little girl's head towards him. She was so pretty, even now. Her large eyes that usually sparkled were blank and glassy, unseeing as they stared uselessly. Her mouth held no joy to it, and her lips didn't grace her favorite person with a smile. Her chest didn't rise and fall as it should have, there was no breathing from her that the doctor could hear. The only part of the seven-year-old that seemed alive was her hair, her inky black hair that was splayed around her head and shimmered like a river.

Bruce shook his head, mouthing the word "No," several times, but nothing could change this reality.

Her body was crushed, that much was obvious, and the girl looked like she was curling into herself slightly, as if she could still feel pain, or maybe she had been trying to form herself into a ball for safety. Blood streaked her dark skin and her torn clothes, dripping into the black river from a large cut on her hairline. There were lacerations everywhere on Gayathri when there shouldn't have been. Blood and dust covered her deep skin and made her look like a washed-out doll, left in the attic for too many years with stains never thought to cleaned splattered over her.

A tear fell from the man's eye and onto her cheek. Bruce gently, gently, wiped it away with his thumb.

This is why you can't get attached, he told himself, but Bruce didn't care. His heart had belonged to Gayathri ever since she had first hugged him. She had this charm to her. She was so pretty, so smart, Bruce was sure that if she wanted to, she could become President of Earth and grant it world peace. More tears fell. Bruce didn't care in the least, and he couldn't feel them anyway. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Bruce used up the last of his strength and gathered Gayathri in his arms, her skin cold on his, making him cry harder. Their secret handshake. But not even that thought could make him smile.

He buried his face in her hair, which still smelled like peaches from the shampoo he had given her. He inhaled, never wanting to forget. More tears, more tears, his eyes were drowning and his cheeks were river beds. Bruce's body shook like a bad motor, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. He was sure that the girl's hair was an actual river by now from his crying. The man brought his head up and kissed her forehead, wanting so badly for Gayathri to throw her small arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Gayathri," Bruce whispered. "I should never have let this happen!" His voice broke, and he hugged her tighter. Her dark skin was beautiful in the moonlight but as cold as space itself. Bruce let a sob escape his lips, and another, and several more, until he was crying and wailing loudly, uncontrollably. His sobs were hoarse and muffled, as Bruce had his face in the seven-year-old's hair again, wanting to hide in shame, wanting her to wake up already, wanting her to 'handshake' him back.

Bruce sobbed until the sun began to rise, though tears still fell, and he kissed Gayathri's forehead again, then lay her down. He closed her blank eyes and stumbled away, trying his hardest not to look back.

His hardest wasn't hard enough.

**Author's Note:**

> "Prēmikā, mērī prēmikā" translates to "beloved, my beloved" in HIndi, and is the title of the poem at the beginning. (I used Google translate- if you find anything wrong, please tell me.)


End file.
